Shadow Realm
by Jennifer Ever Zero
Summary: Mulder and Scully are sent to Denver, where a faction of black magicians and the secret war they wage put Scully's life in danger.


Shadow Realm

By Zero

Just like clockwork. Dana Scully entered her apartment and set her keys, briefcase, and purse on the table in one fell swoop, heading straight for the refrigerator for a Diet Coke and some leftover pasta. She reached down to set her cell phone on the table, but nearly dropped it when it rang.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me. We've got an hour to pack, then we're going to Denver." Mulder's voice shook with a sense of urgency that she hadn't heard in quite some time. "What do you know about demons? So far, fifteen people have been killed by someone calling himself the 'demon slayer'. The cops can't put a finger on who it is, and the people think of him as some kind of superhero."

"I can tell you right now that the demons aren't real. It sounds like a serial killer who's also a very convincing salesman." Though she tried to argue, she headed to her room to grab a suitcase. "What else do we know about this guy?"

"Witnesses have not been cooperating, they all describe him differently. The only detail we've got is the name of a downtown coffee shop that he frequents. Nobody is willing to talk about this guy, either they're scared to lose him, or they're scared of what he can do to them."

"So…he's just a one-man witch hunt?"

"Maybe I'm wrong, but I think there's more to these demons than just a myth! Every report shows the victims behaving very strangely before they are killed, sometimes days or even weeks before the killer shows up. They are all connected, members of the same strange faith, some kind of magic. Some of them are part of Denver's underground culture, some of them local celebrities. The events surrounding these people are bizarre, Scully, the way things just 'happen' into their lives. One of the victims, a rich socialite who had been taken into custody numerous times for child abuse, recently lost both of her children…they were found dead in the shark tank of the Ocean Journey aquarium, the one that she had **personally** donated 1.4 million dollars to. Another one, an 18-year-old tattoo artist, was awarded 10 million dollars in an out-of-court settlement for two months' worth of lost wages, a 16-year-old girl who was killed had recently purchased a 2000 Camaro Z28 in cash, even though her family makes less than $20,000 a year…"

"I'll meet you at the airport." Exasperated, she hung up, tossing clothes haphazardly into the bag. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

__

"Reflections start to lie

When the mirror knows too much

Yesterday has passed

Tomorrow long since gone

Thirteen years and nothing's changed

The promises, they died

Never let them see the rage

You left me wanting……"

"Alright, cut! Michael, we need to hear you stronger, Charles is overpowering you. Charles, keep doing what you're doing, we just need stronger guitar." The producer, a young woman decked out in pigtail braids and skateboarding gear, twists a few knobs and makes a note in her legal pad.

"So we're starting from the top?" Michael, the guitarist, gives her an irritated roll of his eyes.

"Yeah. Top." Just then, there is a knock on the door. A tall, wild-haired man in a spiked collar steps in, deathly pale and shaking. The producer stands, placing a hand on the man's shoulder to calm him. "Robert, what are you doing here?"

"D…demon slayer. The goddamn demon slayer…" He steps back, turning away. "David. The slayer got David."

"Was David one of them?"

"I-I don't know."

"Did he act like the others, did he say anything to the slayer?"

"I don't know…I don't…" By now, the two men in the studio have come out. Michael lays a hand on the tall man's shoulder, and is pulled in close for an embrace. The singer, a large man in a fishnet shirt and vinyl pants, stands aside and closes his eyes. As one tear rolls down his cheek, a powerful scream rises from his throat, the force of his emotion knocking him to his knees.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"MULDER!!!" Scully sits bolt upright in bed, wiping sweat from her forehead and tears from her eyes, the echo of a tortured scream still ringing through her head. As she tries to recover from the nightmare, she breaks down into a screaming, shaking, crying fit.

In the next room, Mulder paces like a caged lion, looking over the casework and clicking around on his laptop…suddenly, the sound of a desperate scream rings through his ears…the force and the sadness of the scream make him fall to his knees, burying his head in his hands.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

__

"Gifts from gods below

The strangers riding call

The script already written

So patiently we wait…"

"So, you were at the coffee shop at the time of the incident?" Scully sits at a messy table in a sparsely furnished apartment, speaking with a young woman.

"Yes I was." The woman nervously turns away, taking another drink of her coffee. Just looking for an excuse to fidget, she pushes her glasses up on her nose.

"And exactly what did you see?"

"Well…I was with my friend, she was facing the back of the restaurant, where it happened. She looked confused for a second…then she told me to turn around, there was about to be a fight. I saw a kid about my age, all dressed in black, pulling a dagger on David James. David stood up, took the dagger, and said, 'Confessions will deceive you within the shadow realm.' He leaned down and kissed the boy on the forehead, then handed the dagger back and spread his arms. The kid stabbed him…then…" She turns away, sickened, and leans her head back to blink away the tears. "After he stabbed him, he cut a slit from his neck all the way down to his stomach and ripped out the heart. Everybody in the restaurant was cheering for him…"

"'Confessions will deceive you within the shadow realm'. Were those his exact words?"

"Yes, exact words."

"And you said the suspect was your age, was there anything **at all** familiar about him?"

"No, nothing."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"There's no rainbow here

The words are never mine

What's choice for the chosen

They never told me why…"

"Ok, Mulder…what valid, usable evidence do we have so far?"

"We've got the eyewitness reports of Mr. James' death, which don't say much. We've got the quote from Mr. James before he died, which is actually a line from a song that his band wrote. The police don't have any reports filed, but our witness reports have been matching. I think the police are trying to keep something from us. The only question is…is it their choice to do it, or is somebody making them hide something?"

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Then how will we get any conclusion at all? Ever heard of going with a hunch? A gut feeling?"

"A wild guess?" She gives him a cold smirk, sitting across from him on the bed in his hotel room. "Mulder, we do not know anything about this case that we didn't know before! 

"Then maybe we should take what we do know. There is a boy calling himself the 'demon slayer', responsible for killing sixteen people. In each case, he has removed the heart from their body, saying that it is the only way to kill the demon. Everybody in Denver knows about him, it's almost like an urban legend; but somehow, he has never gotten arrested, or even taken in for questioning. Most of the victims are part of the underground or 'gothic' subculture, and all have had ties to an alternative religion, some kind of black magic…"

"Wicca? Magick?"

"Not quite, but close. This practice has no ties to any kind of higher beings."

"So he's either an overzealous Christian, or these people have been doing something to him…"

"Now you're thinking!" He smiles broadly, looking over the papers with renewed focus. "The events surrounding the victims' lives are just amazing. Unreal, even. Mr. James' colleague, Mr. Charles Edward, recently lost a girlfriend to…unexplained circumstances. Listed as suicide, poisoning. The Denver Police found a letter of a…very romantic nature…from Mr. James **to Mr. Edward** that was written just three days before the woman's death."

"So, you're telling me that these people use magic to get what they want? Just cast a spell, and it's done? And why would this offend the demon slayer so much?"

"Maybe a personal problem with one of these magicians. Maybe something of his was 'wished away', and he's trying to get back at them…maybe he is also a member of that faith, one who realizes that they are doing something wrong…or maybe there was a spell or a curse cast on him."

"Well, if you can prepare a report for Skinner that sounds even remotely plausible, or even possible, I'm game. But if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day." She stands, taking a last look at the reports scattered all over Mulder's bed. "Don't work too hard." She turns for the door, resting her hand on the knob.

"Scully?"

"What…" She digs in her pocket for her keycard.

"Good night." He cracks a little smile, trying to stop his mind from imagining how peaceful she would look sleeping.

"Good night, Mulder." With that, she quickly makes her way back to her room.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

__

"Know now what you see,

The voice behind the veil

Confessions will deceive you

Within the Shadow Realm

Our souls split and frayed

Through thoughts that transcend time

Know now where you stand

They'll never tell you why"

"Just like clockwork." As Dana Scully reaches in the mini-fridge of her hotel room for a Diet Coke, the door swings open to reveal a smirking young man holding a card key.

"Who are you?"

"The question is…who are you?" The man steps inside, gently shutting the door behind him.

"I am Special Agent Dana Scully, a federal law enforcement officer. You, sir, are trespassing, and as an officer of the law, I do have the power to arrest you. I believe you should rethink your actions." As she speaks, she reaches in her jacket and clicks the safety off her gun. For the first time, she realizes that her radio is on, playing the same mournful tune that David James' band was recording. Her face falls from a cocky, tight-lipped glare to wide-eyed confusion.

"Dana…" He steps up to her, toe-to-toe. "Do you believe in magic?" Before she has a chance to answer, he reaches down her shirt and rips her cross necklace off her neck. "It's all around you…you better believe it. Now sleep." With that, he reaches up and touches her forehead with one finger, watching her slump to the ground. Silently, he walks out, no emotion on his face.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Shadows grow no longer…" The demon slayer stands in a dark, dirty basement, surrounded by flickering candles. "Let the bond of souls be broken with the final breath…as the light of her eyes grows dimmer, let the world hear his cries…" He drops the cross necklace into the middle of a chalk circle. "As the sun rises, the sleeping angel will fall…"

"SLAYER!!!" With a deafening crack, the door swings open to reveal a concrete staircase, the lights of the alley outside…and the tall, imposing silhouette of Charles Edward standing in the door; wild black hair hangs down past his shoulders, the glint of a silver medallion on his neck reflects on the wall. Without a word, he stalks down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stealthily grabs the kid by the neck and lifts him nearly two feet in the air—they are now face-to-face. He reaches his powerful arm back, then slaps the boy across the face with enough force to spray blood from his nose. He grabs for the boy's belt, taking his dagger, then throws him across the room, knocking him unconscious. He starts to walk toward the boy, but at the last second, turns, kneels, and grabs the cross necklace, gently slipping it in the pocket of his leather pants.

"David," he whispers, walking to the boy and kneeling over him, "let them never see the rage…you left me wanting!" He closes his eyes, leans his head back as he brings his arms up, and lets the knife crash down through the slayer's chest.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Scully!" Mulder knocks on the door again, not used to being the first one awake. "Scully!! … Shit…SCULLY!!" Angrily, he kicks the door, then heads for the office to get a key. A few minutes later, he returns, gently opening the door. "Scully?" He finds her exactly as the slayer had put her to sleep, slumped down on her stomach, still in her suit. "Scully! Wake up!!" Shaking with fear, he reaches down to check her pulse, his eyes widening when he notices that her necklace is gone.

"Agent Mulder…" Mulder slowly turns around to see Charles at the door, his black eye makeup smeared down his face, trying to cover his wild hair with a black baseball hat. He reaches in his pocket, tossing the golden cross necklace into the hotel room so it lands right by Scully's side. "She'll be fine. Get the hell out of Denver."

"Who are you?" He picks up the necklace, ever so gently, and slips it around her neck. As soon as the clasp closes, she sleepily flutters her eyes open.

"I'm more like you than you'd like to admit. The slayer is dead. Get **out** of Denver." With that, he turns and walks away.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
    
    "The magic faction is still practicing in Denver. However, the demon slayer was found dead two nights ago of a…self-inflicted knife wound…his heart was removed, presumably by another member of the faction, that morning." Scully slides a manila folder across the big wooden desk, looking AD Skinner right in the eyes.

"Thank you, Scully. Thank you, Mulder. This case will be closed…for now."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

__

"Reflections start to lie

When the mirror knows too much

Yesterday has passed

Tomorrow's long since gone…"

On the way home, Mulder listens to the songs again. What did he mean? Why did he say that they were alike? Every song seemed to say the same thing, the same unrequited cry…but what do they all mean? With a sigh, he clicks the radio off and leans back, feeling more disillusioned and depressed than usual. He reaches for his cell phone, but nearly drops it when it rings.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me. I just called to say good night. And you better get some sleep."

"Good night…Dana." Sadly, he hangs up the phone…he climbs the stairs to his apartment with a weight on his shoulders that only a person in mourning can carry. As he hangs his head to look over the balcony, something catches his eye. A tall, dark figure, Charles Edward, gives him a sorrowful glance. Mulder shakes his head to take another look, but sees nothing.

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Disclaimers: X-Files, all X-Files characters and related indicia are property of 20th Century Fox, Chris Carter, and 1015 Studios, used for entertainment purposes only.

All song lyrics are property of Seraphim Shock and Requiem Records, written by Edward/Kammerer/James (none of whom are demons, black magicians or serial killers). Used for entertainment purposes only.

All other characters are completely made up, any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All that being said, if this story **still** offends you or infringes on any of your copyrights, please email [xjenniferever@aol.com][1] and the story will be removed immediately.

   [1]: mailto:xjenniferever@aol.com



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